whatever it takes (i'll be there for you)
by halcyon epochs
Summary: One time Marlene comforted Sirius, and the one time he returned the favor. :: Sirius, Marlene, and the blossoming of a new beginning.


**For quidditch league round one (tornadoes, chaser 3):**

 **(main) write a theme you've never written before [new beginnings]**

 **Prompts—**

 **(word) homemade**

 **(song) The Fighter - Keith Urban**

 **(word) divorce**

 **Other prompts below.**

 **WC: 1529**

* * *

 _For Emy_

 _thank you to sienna, vic, shay, and rose for betaing!_

* * *

He stares at the letter in his hand, numb and unfeeling. The elegantly written letters swim in front of his eyes, and his fist clenches as one word claws at his heart: _disowned._

He doesn't know what to think.

So he runs.

(He doesn't see the girl with blonde hair follow him.)

...

Marlene finds Sirius perched on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, a bottle of firewhiskey in one hand and a letter clutched in the other. He has his back turned to her, but the way he's shaking speaks for itself. He's clearly upset over something.

 _(Over the years, she's learned to read him. She can tell by the slightest movements what he's thinking, even if it's just a raised eyebrow or a quirk of his lips.)_

 _(When he's intoxicated, however, it's another story.)_

They say there's comfort offered merely by presence, so she doesn't say anything, instead delicately takes a seat next to him. That's when she gets a good look at his face.

His brows are furrowed, his eyes an abyss of dark, stormy gray, a stark contrast from their usual lighthearted silver. He's hunched over, alarmingly still, but his hand is trembling.

He doesn't move an inch when she takes the parchment from his hand and smoothes out the wrinkles caused by his grip. She scans over the contents of the letter, and her own face darkens.

"Those heartless bastards," she mutters bleakly, almost tempted to ball up the parchment and set fire to it right then and there.

"They are, aren't they?" Sirius laughs mirthlessly, speaking for the first time since her arrival. "They're probably celebrating that I'm no longer a part of their family."

He falls silent, and Marlene sees red. She cannot believe that his parents would be so cruel, and anger floods through her. Her fists clench and she momentarily envisions punching his parents' smug faces.

"Give me that bottle," she demands.

Sirius looks taken aback by her sudden change in tone. He clutches the bottle to his chest. "Why?"

"Just give it to me." Her voice leaves no room for argument. Reluctantly, Sirius hands her the bottle of alcohol. "What're you doing?"

"Just watch." She carefully flattens the parchment, lays it on the ground, and promptly dumps the remainder of the bottle's contents on it.

Sirius watches, shock painted on his aristocratic features. "Why did you do that?" he asks.

Marlene turns back to him. "You shouldn't be drinking away your sorrows," she says firmly. "You're proving your family right by getting drunk over them. You can't let them control your life."

Sirius stares blankly at her, uncomprehending. Marlene sighs, exasperated.

"You need to get over them," she says, simplifying it to a single sentence that he will understand, even in his drunken state.

The blankness on his face clears and he nods. "Thank you," he rasps.

Marlene studies his face for a moment. "No problem."

 _(She knows the agony will never be fully eradicated. She knows a little bit of it will always dwell within his conscience. But he is strong, and he will heal.)_

…

The breeze is rustling through Marlene's hair and the sun's rays are illuminating her golden tresses, giving the illusion of a halo wrapped around her head like a crown.

(Maybe it's the fog of intoxication clouding his eyes.)

Either way, she looks like an angel from the heavens, an incarnation of Aphrodite herself. She looks beautiful, sitting there with her hair catching the rays of the sun and her eyes glittering with a promise of solace.

The claws around his heart loosen and finally let go, and for the briefest of moments, he feels warmth shoot through him.

Maybe there's hope for him. Maybe he can have a fresh start.

…

Quite ironically, the next month, Marlene receives a letter from her mother with some distressing news. Her mum's handwriting is shaky, and outlines of teardrops stain the creamy parchment.

One word springs out from the page: _divorce._

Tears drip from her eyes, splashing on the page, and she grits her teeth as the overwhelming sensation of _betrayal_ overcomes her. It lodges in her throat, and she clenches the parchment between her fingers.

Her parents are getting _divorced._

She's vaguely aware of Lily patting her shoulder, saying that everything's going to be alright.

Far from comforting her, it angers her to no end. All she can hear are _lies._ Everything is _not_ going to be okay. Nothing ever will be.

She hazily recalls pushing Lily away, seeing the look of shock plastered on her face, and she _runs._

Tears are blurring her eyes so much that she can't even see where she's going. Her body is on autopilot, running to a place where she can find refuge.

She heads for the Astronomy Tower, and that's where Sirius finds her, a shell of her old self.

Her knees are drawn up to her chest, her head is buried in her lap, and she's shaking violently. He sits next to her, and there is a feeling of _deja vu_ in the air, though neither of them acknowledges it.

He gently pries her hand apart, where the letter is crumpled into a ball. He extracts the letter and unfolds it, reading the contents. A shadow crosses his face.

"Damn," he says, a hint of contempt creeping into his tone. "Our parents have really screwed us over, huh?"

Marlene lifts her head, surprise flitting through her. "You came," she whispered hollowly.

"'Course I did," he replied. "I can't leave a damsel in distress alone, can I?"

Marlene rolls her tear-filled eyes, a faint expression of amusement crossing her face. "I'm assuming being your friend has nothing to do with it."

"Yeah, that too," he amended.

For the first time that morning, she laughs. It's coarse, rough, but it's still a laugh.

She looks at Sirius, and a dam breaks. She throws her arms around him, pulling his head onto her shoulder, and resting her head on his own. Sirius doesn't react at first, apparently too stunned to move.

And then, his arms wrap around her, cocooning her in strong, warm embrace, and unspoken words travel between them. She relaxes in his arms, knowing he will never let her go.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Thank you."

He awkwardly pats her back. "It's not a problem."

It takes a while for her to let go of him, but Sirius doesn't complain. He's there to support her, no matter how long it takes, and when she finally does let go, she can still feel his warmth.

"Here." Sirius hands her a parcel. "This came with your letter. I saw the owl drop it, and I picked it up as I was following you out."

Marlene's hands hesitate momentarily as she looks at the carefully wrapped parcel. She doesn't want to open it, for she is afraid of the contents within. She knows it's a token of consolation from her mother, trying to earn back her trust.

She raises her gazea few millimeters, meeting Sirius's eyes. They are not stormy, like they were when they were last here, but they exude reassurance. The jovial boy has vanished, to be replaced by a more serious, profound young man.

He's grown up. He is still a prankster, but he has also matured. He has grown from his scars, and Marlene feels a newfound respect for him.

She finally sees him for the first time. He is a boy that has been pruned, plucked, and finally flowered into a beautiful man, wiser and more mature than before.

Marlene realizes with a jolt that she's staring, and quickly lowers her gaze. She can feel Sirius's eyes burning holes in the side of her head as she unwraps the parcel, her hands trembling.

Soft fabric meets her fingers as she tosses aside the last scrap of paper. It's a homemade blanket, hand-stitched by her mother. Subconsciously, Marlene lifts the material to her nose and inhales.

It smells like ginger chai, her mother's favorite drink. It smells of freshly baked cookies, her dad's speciality. It smells like flowery perfume, her sister's.

It smells like home.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asks.

She could easily say yes. It was on the tip of her tongue, a millisecond away from spilling out. But she hesitates.

"No," she says carefully. "No, I'm not. But I will be."

It's not the complete truth. It's not a lie either. But with Sirius next to her, she will be okay.

She will get over this.

 _(She can heal the emotional wounds in her body. There will still be scars, reminders of her pain, but she can sew her life back together, stitch by stitch, and Sirius will be there to help her.)_

* * *

 _[crafty cooking] bourbon - word: drunk_

 _[writing club] char app: (genre) friendship; showtime: The Bishop; Lyric Alley:_ _But you came over me like some holy rite; EE:_ **Airag** _\- (object) firewhisky_


End file.
